


Scratch My Back And I’ll Scratch Yours (Shingeki Games)

by nat19th, thousandmonkeys



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat19th/pseuds/nat19th, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandmonkeys/pseuds/thousandmonkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not the first time he’s mentored, but it’s the first time it’s been so damned similar. Damn that Gamemaker and his tempting words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch My Back And I’ll Scratch Yours (Shingeki Games)

**Author's Note:**

> Collaborated for with nat19th and set in the Shingeki Games universe~ Please enjoy~

The dark-haired mentor of District 12 watched with narrowed eyes as one of his charges leaned against the gleaming cliff, panting from a deadly mix exhaustion and altitude sickness. Gertrude; from one of the better families in District 12, the daughter of a butcher and about as skilled with a blade as one of her age could get in Twelve.

Levi’s lips thinned imperceptibly as the girl reached down with a callused palm to pull up her district partner, a rather burly boy with curly hair. The camera moved ever so slightly to focus on the boy’s leg (Mark, was it?) and the mentor winced.

The male tribute had fallen victim to one of the many metal veins running through the mountainous Arena, the electricity frying the nerves in his foot and all but crippling his ability to climb.

With the injury, what few sponsors they had managed to lure with the promise of “savage” tributes had all but trickled away; still, it was down to the last 6 or so. If they could take out that District 5 boy…

The camera panned upwards the cliff-face, and despite himself, Levi winced. The entrance to the little cave was lined with little rods and nets, the endemic moss lining every possible step up. Small bird carcasses were tangled in the lines, electrocuted by skillfully rerouted lightning, connected by adept hands.

The District 5 boy had natural skill with traps: weak in any other game, but in the arid mountains, it was one of the few things keeping the boy alive. Most of the Careers had died early on, falling foul of the strong winds and falling screaming- _screaming like those people he’d gutted_ , his traitorous mind added, _squealing like pigs—_ down ravines.

Only the timidity of the surviving tributes had managed to keep them alive, sheltered in the crevasses; the Gamemakers, had lulled them into a false sense of security before unleashing a massive typhoon, taking care of most of the others.

Hence the current situation. To think they would break character and kill them off with natural disasters…

The screen buzzed, irritating in its urgency, and Levi looked up, rubbing a callused hand at his eyes to clear them. Mind bleary from the past three days of keeping vigil— _the least he could give them, considering how **likely**_ _their death was—_ it took the Mentor a moment to understand the moving pixels on the screen.

Judging from the explosive swears echoing down the surveillance corridors, his duo had met the District 5 boy. As he watched, the girl waved a white flag in the air; an outdated symbol, but it was the best indicator of peaceful intentions they could find.

A gust whistled past them, setting the rags of their makeshift jackets flapping widly in the wind. For a moment it seemed as if Mark would fall, but Gertrude righted him with tremendous effort, hands digging into the cliff face. An almost stupid smile lit up the younger boy’s face and the two Tributes— _two children, children!—_ continued their climb.

The shadowed figure up on that outcrop sat down, folding his legs and peered over the edge. From the camera’s vantage, his face (Hannes?) was unreadable, but his hand didn’t stray to the many little strings lying around his feet. Looks like he was going to allow them up, after all.

Levi breathed in, sagging back against the high-backed chair. He turned his hand over in dull curiosity, noting the reddened indents from where they’d dug into the excessively ornate armrests.

Footsteps rang in the corridor outside and a silhouette fell across the floor next to him, tall and proud, leaning casually on the doorway. “Mentor Levi,” said the man, a rich baritone disturbing the mausoleum-like silence of the room. “Good morning.”

The dark-haired man gave a cursory glance at the screen to check if his Tributes were alright for the moment before turning to address the newcomer, the sullen expression on his face a decent cover for the buzzing mess that was his mind. He’d not seen the blonde Gamemaker for…well—since that disastrous bloodbath of a decade ago.

“Gamemaker Smith. I can’t say it’s a _pleasure_ to see you here.” Levi grimaced at his own voice; the words themselves were cordial enough he supposed, but the clipped tone gave away the tension his expression did not.  “ _Why_ are you looking for me?”

The man shrugged, sliding easily forward with surprising grace to pull out a chair, the movement firm. “May I take this seat?” he asked pleasantly, and his voice gave away no indication of his intentions.

  
“…” Levi stared flatly at the (rididculously) tall man, the circles under his eyes darker than normal and enhancing the general image of an insomniac, but Erwin shrugged it off with a casual “Thanks.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that ensued; Levi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at the humming man next to him. _Humming. Of course the Gamemaker would be humming. It was all just a Game to him._

Usually it was the other way around, with the butterflies of the Capitol almost terrified when in the presence of the so-famed thug of District 12, but the blonde was relaxed, leaning back in his claimed chair, eyes intent upon the screen.

On the screen, the girl winced as she stepped on a trap. Her arms windmilled and she sank down shaking against the cliff face. The boy called for a rope or something along those lines, but the Five boy made no move.

Eventually, the girl got up again and they started the forward. Next to him, Smith hummed in thought. Levi tore his eyes from the screen to level a glare at the man.

“So, what does the administrator of the railway system want with this humble servant?”

It was probably incredibly rash, but considering this space are relatively free of surveillance, it would probably be his only chance to confront any politician in this way. “Tea? Coffee? Souls of screaming orpha—”

Smith finally spoke, blue eyes never leaving the screen. “Keep watching the screen.” He pointed and Levi’s gaze followed the digit.

Just in time to see the boy’s jaw tighten with resolve.

A terrible look came across the boy’s face and Levi knew it all too well. He’d seen it when they’d played the reels of his own Games; he’d seen it when a kid stole some alcohol from a Peacekeeper, only to be beaten within an inch of his life; he’d seen it.

Hannes reached down with one hand to grab Mark’s hand, relief flooding the Twelve boy’s pudgy features. Gertrude clung onto another narrow outcrop, waiting her turn and looking around at the rather breath-taking scenery. It _was_ beautiful, a tactic to satisfy the viewers during inactivity. A bird fluttered past and the 13 year old stared at it in wonder, following the trail of feathers.

A mountain cat reached up to catch it and bounded away, perching onto a rock to watch the humans with curious eyes. Mark offered his other hand to the Five, gaze expectant.

Hannes shook his head. The wind seemed to snatch his words away but even with the unamplified volume Levi could hear that one phrase.

“…. _sorry_ …”

The Twelve boy tilted his head, brow furrowing. “What…?”

“I said, _sorry!_ ”

What came next was hardly a surprise. Things seemed to slow as the boy held a sharpened rod over the climbing boy, hands trembling. Mark’s eyes widened, scrambling to find another foothold, but his injury betrayed him.

He screamed, terrified.

Hannes yelled, a primal wail, desperation clear.

Gertrude lunged to pull her partner back down, eyes begging _no no no no no_.

The cat smiled a toothy grin as it bit into the bird, entrails spilling.

And the pole hit home.

With a sickening squelch it stabbed Mark’s eye, vitreous fluid splattering and trailing down the boy’s cheek. There was a high keening yowl, the origin unknown, and Gertrude scrabbled to keep her balance, falling down to stare wide-eyed at the Five, too stunned to react.

Hannes drew back, bringing it back down with greater force this time, and the boy thrashed like a speared fish, flopping helplessly, almost comically, on the end of the makeshift spear.

First premeditated kill since the Cornucopia; the Five mentor was roaring her joy, her _pride_ , clearly audible despite the cork lining of the walls.

Levi could already smell the rotting-fish-smell of entrails and the foul stench of shit as the pole tugged loose.

Yet not loose enough; a rag-wrapped foot tried to push the twitching cadaver off the pole with no success. It held fast. The mentor felt like bursting into a delirious laughter at the scene. Too similar, this was, oh so similar to that damned, wretched first kill.

Hannes looked back down with panicked eyes as the small butcher’s daughter tried to pull herself up through pure will alone. Her palms left little red trails on the stone and he scrambled back, trembling. A blistered hand reached to grab a burning torch from the campfire, ignoring the flames as the licked around his flesh.

Gertrude lunged forward to grab him, little hatchet out in front of her, roaring in a way no little girl _should._ Hannes rolled out of the way with a pig-like squeal, preparing to attack her with the burning brand, the flame scorching his face.

And paused, dropping the brand with a curse.

She stared up with glassy eyes at the clear sky, own hatched buried in her neck. Little tips of white jutted out around the edge, almost bird-boned in how small they were, and even as they watched, the girl twitched ever so slightly. The withered vegetation sucked up the blood like a parched throat, growing green with vitality where the blood touched it.; beautiful bloodsuckers. Heh. Just like how the Capitol liked it.

A bubble of blood rose to her lips as she tried to curse, tried to say something, and the boy dropped to his knees next to her, unseeing. He was trembling, clutching at his now burnt hand, doubling over and screaming with pain, face reddening, purpling. The only water on the mountain was the girl’s blood, and a terrible joy came over his face when he managed to push his hand under the girl, burying the limb in what must be mercifully cool grass.

Sick bastards.

The girl soon stilled, falling limply to the floor like a doll without a puppeteer. A trail of red ran down the side to her face to drip onto the flood, the last of her life mingling into the reddened grass she now lay in. Two sacks of meat and no more: that was all that was left of District 12’s tributes this year.

Despite the never-dulling horror at seeing his tributes die, Levi felt no surprise. District 12 never had more than one mentor at a time. “…Underhanded, that.”

He turned to look at the Gamemaker, expecting a terrible glee, and started at the solemn look on the blonde’s face. “Underhanded like your _own_ Games?” Smith leaned wearily against the chair’s back. “Do you see something of yourself in him?”

Levi flinched, the words like a whip, before straightening, eyes hard and back ram-rod straight. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, practiced hand reaching for the little penknife he kept before remembering where he was. The hand retreated but his gaze stayed unbroken.

“He knew there was no other choice” _Just like you did,_ those hard blue eyes seemed to say, boring into Levi’s, unaffected by the low growl emitting from the smaller man’s throat.“You do know he’s the assured victor?”

“There’s still the brawler from District 4,” he said tersely. The girl was muscular, and more than enough to take down the boy if they met—which was almost guaranteed, considering the nature of the games.

“Who’s got a twisted ankle”; stated with no inflection whatsoever, Smith’s confidence made the final outcome all too clear. Arrogant bastard.

Well, that was one thing he could change, even if it did cost him whateve sponsors he’d gathered this year. “Easily fixed,” he said, and reached for the keyboard. There were enough funds to send a decent salve to the Four girl, and the Capitol could hardly kill him considering he was the only available mentor.

  _For this year at least_ , whispered the long-trained instinct of self-preservation. His hand hovered over the keys and Smith spoke up, voicing that very concern. “Don’t even think of sending aid to him. It’s not worth your life,” he said.

Levi snarled. “What would _you_ know about consequences?”

Sheltered Capitol boy that he was, Smith’s first year as a Gamemaker happened to be Levi’s Games, and the blonde’s inexperience resulted in an exceptionally vicious game. _You should kill him_ , his mind snarled, curling around him like a panther, sweet, seductive. _You should, for all that he did to them._

_To you._

The blonde was speaking again, and despite himself Levi listened. “Enough to tell you that I have my fingers in that pie.”

Spreading his arms wide, the man leaned back, once again confident. Tellingly, he never looked at the screen. A glance showed that the boy was still shaking. Maybe a muttation would finish him off. “Some of the things I’m involved in, you wouldn’t even _begin_ to comprehend.”

The Twelve man snorted derisively, shaking his head. The man thought himself a puppet master eh? Well, this puppet wouldn’t be so easily caught. “Heh. What, you’ve been in contact with the fabled District 13?”

Suddenly, he leaned forward, his face close— _too close, too close—_ to the blonde’s in a split second. He could see those clear blue eyes narrow, the man’s heartbeat thumping louder, but whether it was from fear or excitement, Levi couldn’t tell. “Don’t. Take. Me. For. A. Fool,” he snarled.

What he didn’t expect was the hearty laugh that followed, a rumbling bubble of excitement. The man steepled his fingers, leaning forward as well and Levi fell back instinctively, unsettled. He snapped his fingers before speaking again, and the buzz of static filled the room. “Who knows? As I said: many pies, dear Levi.”

“You can’t be serious.” Much like the dead-eyed stare of a fish, the man’s flat gaze gave nothing away.

“Lets not be too rash,” Smith said and pulled up an ankle to rest it on his knee. “Now, you _do_ remember that set of talents you showed in your Games a decade ago?”

“…I’m hardly going to _forget_ , am I?” Levi said, incredulity an undercurrent in his voice. Not when it was Smith that forced him to show it; the man _knew_ that.

“Put them to use for me.”

It seemed so _simple_ to him, didn’t it? People must seem like a commodity to this man, dissident element or not. Looking resolutely at the screen, Levi shook his head in wonder. “Why _should_ I? Why do you even _want_ a pet torturer?”

After all, if he was looking for a way to fill his lust, there were clubs in the Capitol that would serve his purpose. Unless…

“You have a grudge?”

“Ah, no.” The man was hiding something, his voice now guarded, but he pushed on. “Duty, talent, self-interest, love for justice…” Hah. Justice was a nebulous concept to these people, as morally decadent as they were.

“Hatred, love…” he continued, shifting to look at Levi once again. “…Perhaps revenge?” Smith conceded, and Levi felt a dark beast stir, prodded to life by the man’s presumption.

“What would you even know about revenge, _Gamemaker_? If I sought it, you would be amongst the first to _die_. Messily at that; I’ve not forgotten that hailstorm.”

Ice; frozen lumps of water pelting the exposed tributes, people lying under people, pulling the corpses of other children over themselves to survive; ripping open sacks of meat, the whites of their eyes showing in their desperation to find food; bathing in blood in an effort to stay warm and then summarily dying; finally winning, _winning_ , an icicle forced down his district’s partner’s throat, her hair floating in the wind…

“Does bringing justice down on the excesses of the Capitol tempt you enough? Seeing Pixis destroyed enough? Seeing segregation of Districts abolished enough?” For the first time, the blonde lost his composure, passion entering his voice. On the armrest, his fist clenched, voice going taut. “Is that _enough_ for you?”

It couldn’t be real, what Smith offered, but the dark corner of vengeance was a powerful mistress. It stretched itself like a great cat across his thoughts at the coaxing, purring with delight at the delicious promise.

Despite himself, Levi was tempted.“…you’re a fool,” he said. _I’m a fool_ , he thought.

“Perhaps. Still, we’re bound now. After all, I can’t let you leave so easily now that you know of the movement.” The man was good; there had to be a recording of this somewhere, and if they were to expose him…

Who would take the word of a simple Victor against that of Erwin Smith, respected Gamemaker and Capitolian?

“…backed me into a corner,” he muttered.

“Thank you. I try my best,” Smith said, professionalism once again the prevalent tone. “Well, Mr. Levi. Unless you would prefer something else…?”

Grudging respect flickered, the tiny spark of emotion mingling with the every-present bitterness.

“If we’re going to be working together, then I suppose you’ll have to call me Levi.” Levi was decent; Levi was the woodcarver of District 12. _Anything but that cursed nickname the Capitol so loved, not unless they were willing to fight for it._

Standing up, the man offered his hand to the younger, once again the image of the perfect Capitolian. “Erwin Smith, of the Capitol. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

There was a speck of dust on the man’s lapel, stark against the dark fabric of his suit, a shimmering, gaudy _thing_. Instead, he took Smith’s proffered hand, shaking it with a grip that was probably too tight. “Levi. Levi of District 12, and if you betray me, I’ll find a way to bring you screaming with me all the way down.”

The man’s eyes burned as they left the room, and Levi shivered with a certain excitement.

“Likewise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on tumblr under the blog http://serascribbles.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can read it over there too, and thank you once again for reading it. Feedback is much appreciated.


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